Some Things Are Better Left Unsaid
by imeanwaitwhat
Summary: A dangerous assassin is on the loose in New York City. Chandler and Vargas, two FBI agents, are given the task to find him and to rule him out. Will they succeed?
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: **I do not own The Vampire Diaries, Beauty and the Beast or any of its characters. The plot, however, is mine.

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Stock·holm syndrome. _noun_ \ˈstäk-ˌhō(l)m-\ The psychological tendency of a hostage to bond with, identify with, or sympathize with his or her captor.

* * *

_**Prologue**_

* * *

Try and imagine walking through an unfamiliar house with the lights off, everything around you pitch-black. I bet you won't even make it five meters before stubbing your toe on something. When you're in this situation, you would be grateful for a set of matches. Obviously, a match doesn't burn forever, but each and every one of them will help you a bit further on your way to the exit. In broad daylight, you probably never even would've thought about those matches.

If you're lucky, you cross a lighter, maybe even a flashlight on the way. You'll put the matches aside, because lighters work longer, a flashlight allows you to look further ahead. But trust me, once the lighter is empty or your battery dies you're glad you still have your matches to fall back on.

That's kind of the way it is with friends. Some are closer to you than others and they won't always stick around, even though you need them, but in the end every single one of them has helped you to get to where you are today.

So yes, maybe one day you're going to have to let go of those most precious to you, and yes, you're going to stub your toe a few times more along the way. And God, does it hurt. But eventually, you will reach your destination: the door.

And then there's the sun.


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I do not own The Vampire Diaries, Beauty and The Beast or any of its characters. The Plot, however, is mine.

* * *

Chapter 1

* * *

He'd been standing in front of the house for minutes, brows creased and a concentrated expression on his face as he let his eyes wander around the dark place before sneaking inside through the door he had opened earlier. He was on a mission. The fingers of his right hand coiled even tighter around the cool, metal stele of the gun he was holding. He had been studying the house for approximately an hour now, and he was sure that the owner of the house, a woman, was upstairs, fast asleep. A little earlier she'd taken some medication and gone to bed sick. Drawing in a deep breath, he tried to relax. He always felt rather nervous at these times, and he couldn't help but notice the way his hand was trembling as he turned to close the door behind himself with the other. ''Concentrate.'' he muttered under his breath. He closed his eyes briefly before opening them again, quietly making his way upstairs.

Without making a single noise, Damon entered the woman's bedroom and stood still beside her bed, taking a moment to look around. The bedroom walls were painted a light shade of pink, a full-length mirror standing in the corner of the room almost entirely covered with pictures. Crouching down so he was on face level with her, he lifted his hand to brush the pads of his fingers over the woman's cheek in an almost endearing way, causing her to stir on the bed. Yet, she didn't wake up. A soft smile was gracing his features as he looked at the woman. She had short, black hair. Features still a little childlike. He leaned in, his face only mere inches away from hers as he murmured, "Sleep tight.." before pressing the barrel of the gun against her head and pulling the trigger.

He tilted his head a fraction as he studied the now dead woman, the question what she possibly could've done for someone to want her dead lingering in the back of his mind. Blood was trickling down her temple and beginning to form a bright red stain on the white, cotton sheets, the spot quickly growing with every passing second. He was pondering to himself what to do with the body as a loud knock resounded through the house, breaking his trail of thoughts. He stood still for a moment, listening carefully before another knock sounded and a faint, female voice called out. "Hello? Is everything alright there?" Damon cursed under his breath before hurrying to the window, glancing down to see a brown-haired woman stand on the porch who was currently reaching into her pocket and pulling out her phone.

Cursing once again, he hurried downstairs, his head snapping from the left to the right frantically as he searched for a way out. He couldn't go to the front door, that was for sure. Now he was thinking about it, he forgot to lock it too. If the woman standing outside was smart enough to try and open it, he'd be screwed to say the least. Being desperate and having no other option he made his way to the back door, holding his breath as he opened it quietly and slipped outside.

* * *

Catherine was walking down the hall towards her office when a voice stopped her. "Cat! Jackson wants us all in his office. Pronto." Tess said and motioned for Catherine to follow her and join the others at the other office. She frowned; asking herself what could be wrong this time. Could it have something to do with the murders that were following each other up so quickly? She put the documents she was holding on her desk and followed Tess to Jackson's office, joining the still growing circle of people already in the room.

She let her eyes wander around and was surprised that they were all there. This was serious business. "We've found new evidence on the case of our murderer." Jackson started. "We can call him a serial killer now. Almost every victim is murdered the same way. Though, he makes no difference between women or men. You are all going to focus on him, but Chandler and Vargas, I place you two on the case permanently." There were some complaints around but most people didn't really seem to bother much. "Now go back to your work. And you two ladies stay here. I need to talk to you about this killer." Jackson said, pointing at the two of them. Tess and Catherine took place on the chairs on the other side of Jackson's bureau and waited for him to get the papers he needed. "Any idea why I put you two on this case?" Jackson asked. "Of course. We are the best of your team." Tess joked. Jackson shook his head with a small grin on his lips and continued. "That may be a part of it. But I just know you two can work together very well and that you two can do this." Catherine rolled her eyes briefly, knowing very well that wasn't the reason. The main reason was that Jackson - who she absolutely had no interest in - had a crush on her. He'd never told her directly, but it was quite obvious, even to her colleagues. Not that it mattered. As long as he allowed her to do her job and paid her she couldn't care less.

Pushing the thought aside, Catherine bowed herself over the pictures, newspaper articles and pieces of text that Jackson had laid out in front of them. "So he doesn't really have different ways to kill his victims, but he also doesn't have a special sort of victim. Do you really think he's a serial killer?" Catherine asked and looked up at her boss with a raised eyebrow. "It looks quite like it." Jackson said. Catherine shook her head. "No. He's more an assassin to me. It's obvious he's not going after any special type of person. It doesn't matter if you're a woman or a man. Whether you're a good or a bad person. Rich or poor. He just kills everybody, because someone tells him to do it." Her boss was already shaking his head. "Of course not. This doesn't look like an assassin to me at all." "Well.." Tess spoke up suddenly. "I agree with Cat. I think he could be an assassin indeed. But I think we're going to find that out really soon." "Probably.'' Jackson agreed. ''Just focus on the information we have right now. I have a team meeting now, but if you find any new evidence that could lead to any idea who this killer is, just check in with me.''

Catherine nodded before gathering all the stuff and heading to her own office, Tess following her not far behind. "How are we going to handle this?" She asked once they were inside. Catherine pursed her lips and frowned. "Well I guess we have to wait for another victim. It's not something I like to do, but we don't have another choice. Because he doesn't have any special kind of victim we don't know when or where he is going to strike next time." She heard a phone ringing in the other room and a few seconds later, their boss came in. "He struck again. Chandler, Vargas, you two go with the investigation team. After that I want to know what you two think about this serial killer.. or whatever he is. And I want all the evidence we can find. Now go!" Both Catherine and Tess got up and took their guns off the desk. "Let's go, Tess. I want to be there earlier than the investigation team." Catherine said and headed outside.

A few minutes later, the vehicle Catherine and Tess were driving in stopped in front of the house with a screeching sound. She and Tess got out and hurried to the house. A few other cops were already standing outside. "Let's go inside to look if he's still there first." Catherine said and got her weapon. She heard that the others were following her into the building and that the woman who probably called 911 was talking to one of her colleagues. She opened the door and walked further into the building. She motioned for the others to go left and right downstairs while she and Tess were going upstairs. Checking the rooms, she noticed one door that was open just a crack, and she decided to take a look there. On the bed was a woman, her pillow red with blood. Her blood. Catherine made a face and called out for Tess, lowering her gun. "I guess it really is him who struck again."

* * *

Damon slipped out of the house and was about to go for a run when the sound of a female voice made him stop in the middle of his tracks. Thick brows narrowed and he turned on his heels, now facing the house, the weight of his head canted to one side. Her voice.. It had something that drew him back to the house. Something that made him want to get caught just so he could talk to the person the voice belonged to. He shook his head to clear his mind, slowly backing away. What was he thinking? This was ridiculous. He had to go. Fast.

* * *

"We are too late. He already fled the place." Catherine muttered. Her brows narrowed. She had the feeling she was being watched. Resting her hand on her gun, Catherine made her way over to the window, nudging the curtains out of the way to get a glimpse outside. Yet, there was no one to be seen. Shrugging the feeling off, she turned to face Tess. ''I think Evan can tell us more about her. Maybe he can find some DNA on her body that could give us a clue as to who our killer is.'' Tess said. ''Let's take a look around the house for anything suspicious.'' Catherine nodded and followed her partner. ''I have to tell you, our killer got balls.'' Tess said, and Catherine looked at her with raised eyebrows. ''What? He shot someone through the head in broad daylight.'' ''Yeah, that's true. Or he's just stupid and reckless.'' But while Catherine said those words, others began to form in her head. _Or he just really knows what he's doing._


	3. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **I do not own The Vampire Diaries, Beauty and The Beast or any of its characters. The Plot, however, is mine.

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Chapter 2

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Damon's brows remained narrowed as he walked along the streets. He was on his way home, hands tucked into the depths of the pockets of his jeans. Somehow he wasn't able to get the woman her voice out of his head. A slightly irritated growl spilled from his lips as he muttered to himself. "Get your shit together, Salvatore." purposely blocking out the voice. He opened the door to his apartment and staggered inside, closing it behind himself. He hung his jacket over the armrest of the couch and trudged up the stairs and into his room, letting himself drop onto his bed, allowing lids to drop over azure hues.

After taking a few deep breaths, Damon got to his feet again. Quickly, he slipped out of his clothes, carelessly tossing them aside. He walked into the bathroom and stepped under the shower. He set it on the right temperature and turned it on. As the water cascaded down on him, he inhaled deeply, lifting his hands to rake his digits through his onyx tendrils. Showering always made him feel better. It made him able to think clearly. The murder he'd just committed had been harder than all the others. He couldn't deny it. It remembered him of the first time he had murdered someone. Though, that hadn't been planned.

It was a little over a year ago. He and his current girlfriend had just had an immense fight. He had truly loved her, and therefore trusted her. It turned out to be the biggest mistake he'd ever made. After months of 'I love you's and passionate sex, it turned out she'd been screwing some other guy all along. That's when everything inside of him snapped. The next thing he remembered was the sight of her lying on the floor, dead. She'd had a gaping wound in her skull, and he'd been the one holding the gun. He had hurried out of the house and gone into hiding, assuming no one would ever find him. Boy, he was wrong. Only several hours after he'd fled, one of his enemies (who once had been a close friend) stood on his porch, threatening to tell the world the truth. Though he wouldn't, if Damon could do something for him. There was someone he needed to get out of the way. Scared for his own life, Damon did what he was told. He'd even been paid after finishing the job. That's how it all started. He was better known as the 'Silent Killer'. He killed each of his victims the same way, simply with a bullet through the head. No torturing, no complications, just one single bullet. After he'd finished the job, Alaric (the one he got all his victims from) would give him the promised money and he'd disappear.

Over the years, he'd learned how to cover his tracks, so he never left any evidence. At least, he thought he didn't because so far they still hadn't tracked him down. He was quite proud of himself. Though, today's events had kind of gotten out of hand, which brought him back to the black-haired woman. She had looked like his ex. His dead ex, to be more precisely. Even though she'd cheated on him and he'd killed her in return, it hadn't changed his feelings for her. The only thing was that he had serious trust issues. But oh well. As long as he did his job, no one really cared.

Turning off the shower, Damon hopped out of the cabin and quickly towel-dried himself before putting on a fresh pair of boxers, his sweatpants and a black t-shirt. He felt rather tired. With a sigh, he clambered into his bed and pulled the covers up to his chin. Letting lids drop over oceanic hues, he drifted off into a deep sleep.

* * *

"And, did you find something yet?" Tess popped up from beside Catherine. Evan looked up with an annoyed expression on his face and raised an eyebrow. "I can't make miracles work, Tess. You brought this body in an hour ago. I'm fast, but not that fast." Catherine saw Tess pout and she shook her head grinning. "Come on, Tess, we need to strategize about what we're going to do next anyway. We need to stop him before he makes his next move." Both women walked out of Evan's lab, letting him do his work while they did theirs. "We need to predict what he is going to do. We can't have him killing another helpless victim. Otherwise we will never get a case like this anymore. The only problem is; who is our next victim?" ''Cat, that's practically impossible to predict. Trying to find his next victim is like trying to find a needle in a haystack.'' Catherine brought a hand up to rake her fingers through her hair, eyes closing momentarily. ''I know, but at least we're doing something. I can't just sit here knowing that someone could be murdered a-'' Cat was cut off in the middle of her sentence when the door of her office opened and Jackson walked in. ''Chandler, Vargas, aren't you supposed to be home already?''

''Well, yeah, but-'' Tess started, but Jackson held up his hand. ''Not a chance. Go home you two. You're done for the day.'' Catherine opened her mouth to protest but stopped herself when Jackson gave her a pointed look. ''Fine. We'll go home.'' She grumbled under her breath before gathering her belongings and heading out of the building. She walked over to her car, fumbling for her keys in her pocket to unlock the door. She slipped inside, fastened her seatbelt and quickly pulled up out of the parking lot, making her way to her apartment. As she drove, she couldn't help but notice her own nervousness. Eyes constantly squinting from the left to the right, fingers thrumming continuously against the steering wheel. She reached over to turn the radio on. A small smile pulled at the corners of her mouth as Wherever You Will Go by The Calling started playing. It happened to be one of her favorite songs. Catherine hummed quietly along with the music, reaching her apartment before she even realized it. She parked her car and turned the engine off, hopping out of the vehicle prior to closing the door and twisting on her heels, walking over to the entrance.

Catherine let out an exasperated sigh when she walked through the hall of the apartment building. She ascended the stairs to her apartment, once again letting out a shaky breath. After days like this she felt every step she took. Especially when she took the stairs. There was an elevator, but she always took the stairs because secretly, she was a little frightened of the metal machines. She opened the door to her apartment and was greeted by the meowing sound of her cat. "Marshmallow, is it time for dinner?" She said and smiled softly at the cat who was now bumping his grey and white head against her legs. "Come on, let's get you something to eat." She walked to the kitchen with the cat on her heels and took the bag of cat food out from under the sink. She filled Marshmallow's bowl and then she put the bag away again. A hot shower sounded good right now, so that was what she decided to take. She went to her bedroom to get some baggy clothes and then she went to the bathroom. After a minute or ten, she got out of the bathroom with her dark-brown hair still hanging damp over her shoulders. She tied her hair up in a messy bun and went to the kitchen to make some chai tea before sitting down on the couch, turning the TV on. The murder was on the news, and she reached for the remote to switch channels, but right before the channels changed she could swear she saw something move in the shadows.

* * *

_Damon's brows narrowed as he stirred on the bed, an uncomfortable feeling overcoming him. Slowly, his eyes fluttered open. The space next to him was empty. Letting himself slide out of bed, he slipped on a shirt before making his way through the dimly lit hall. The living room, where he heard some muffled sounds, was still dark. Letting his hands wander over the wall, he found the light switch and flipped it on. He heard a loud gasp and blinked a couple of times to let his eyes adjust to the light. There, right in front of him, lay Heather on the couch, another guy on top of her. "Heather? What the hell." Damon's eyes flashed with anger. The guy on top of her jerked upright and turned around. Damon's eyes nearly bulged out of his skull. "Stefan? You have got to be kidding me.." He said, feeling his heart sink. "Damon, I.." Heather stammered, pulling the remains of her shirt together to cover her exposed chest. Stefan quickly scooted to the side. "What are you doing here?" She asked. Damon clenched his jaw and walked forward, ignoring her question. He stood still in front of his brother, seething with anger. "You. Out. Now." Stefan quickly gathered his things and made his way out, slamming the door shut behind himself._

_Damon took a deep breath and closed his eyes briefly, sitting down on the couch and resting his head in his hands. He felt.. Well, he didn't even know how to feel. "Damon.." Heather spoke quietly, placing a hand on his shoulder. Damon shrugged it off, lifting his gaze to look at her. Oceanic-blue spheres met whiskey-tinted scleras. "How long..?" Heather opened her mouth and instantly closed it again, averting her gaze. "How long, Heather." He repeated, his tone more demanding this time. "Ever since the first day he and I met." She said, pursing her lips. Damon balled his hands into tight fists, his body tensing. They'd met months ago. He couldn't think clear anymore. The pain was unbearable. His chest contracted. What did he want? He lifted his head again to look at her, his eyes shimmering. "Heather.." He muttered. She moved to cradle his face, leaning in to press her lips against his, only for him to pull back. He knew exactly how he felt. He was angry. God, he was furious. Before he knew it, he had a gun in his hand, the barrel pressed against Heather's temple. "Heather?" He said. She nodded weakly, her body trembling with fear. "We're done." He said. And with those words, he pulled the trigger._

Damon shot upright in his bed, gasping for air. Drawing in a rather shaky breath, he ran his hands through his hair. A dream. It was just a dream.


	4. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **I do not own The Vampire Diaries, Beauty and the Beast or any of its characters. The plot, however, is mine.

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Chapter 3

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Damon rubbed his eyes in an attempt to get the sleepiness out. He was exhausted to say the least. Not that he'd gone to bed too late the night before. His nightmare. . .if that's what you could call it, woke him up early. He hadn't been able to go back to sleep after, memories of his past flooding his mind, demanding his attention. Eventually he'd just given up on trying and gone downstairs to watch some TV. Though, after some annoyed grumbling after finding one cooking program after the other he'd given up on that, too. Which is why he was now sitting fully dressed at the dinner table, taking a last swig of his lukewarm coffee before putting the mug in the sink. He snatched his leather jacket from the couch and shrugged it on before leaving the house.

He had only one goal this morning: Find the FBI agent from the day before.

* * *

The next morning wasn't like other mornings for Catherine. The murder from the day before hadn't left her mind, and neither had the fact that they were almost one-hundred percent sure that the same person had struck again. The feeling that she was not seeing something that was right in front of her was bugging her and she couldn't focus. The only sound she heard was Jackson faintly muttering in the background. "Gilbert!" Her head shot up and she looked at him. "Sorry boss, I was.. Thinking about yesterday." He simply shook his head. "Yeah, well you better stop doing that because it has no use at this exact moment. I was just telling Vargas, she and you have a press conference tomorrow, with me. About this whole serial killer thing. You know how it works. I will give all the information the press is allowed to know and then you two build something upon that.'' He said, waving a dismissive hand as if it was no big deal. ''Tomorrow morning at 8 o'clock we're going live."

Catherine managed a stiff nod and after that both partners left their boss' office to sit down at Catherine's desk. "How fun. Press conference. Can't wait." Tess sighed. Catherine frowned and nodded. "Yeah. Hey, um. Do you mind if I'm going to take a look at the crime-scene again? I mean, you can come but I was actually planning on going alone." She quietly finished her sentence, silently praying Tess would refuse and focus on the paperwork instead. "We wouldn't be partners if I let you do that, huh?" Tess quipped and proceeded to stand up. "C'mon let's go do something useful!"

* * *

He knew he shouldn't have come back to the crime-scene. He knew that it was a stupid thing to do. He knew he shouldn't have gone in bright daylight but at night, when everything was dark. He also knew that at least he could've taken his gun. But even though he knew all that, he didn't. Damon stood on the porch, glancing up at the house with his sunglasses perched atop his nose. His hands were stuffed in the pockets of his dark jeans and he was wearing a simple, black t-shirt. It wasn't until the door of a car slammed shut that he snapped out of his daze and noticed the thing had pulled up on the driveway. Mentally slapping himself he whirled around and dashed into the backyard with no hesitation whatsoever. Hiding behind some bushes, he held his breath and remained silent. Damon cocked his head to the side as a female voice spoke, the twitch of a smile etching at the corner of his mouth. He would recognize that voice anywhere. Without even looking who had just exited the car, he could tell it was the same FBI agent as the day before, when he'd murdered the person inside the house. He felt somewhat exited. The fact that she'd come back to investigate the whole thing once again probably meant that she was placed on the case permanently, which meant he would have the time to -for as far as that was possible - could get to know her a little better. Or at least the way she worked.

* * *

Catherine wasn't really amused by the fact Tess had gone with her. Like she had told the brunette, she had been planning on going alone. Instead, she had tagged along with her. Now they were together and Catherine wasn't able to do certain things. Things she didn't want others to see. She wanted to follow her senses and go look at places that shouldn't even be looked at because others deemed them irrelevant to the case. But now she could only look through some papers or in a closet. While she had been looking through stuff in the room, the sudden feeling of someone watching her overcame her. When she walked to the window to look her phone started beeping. She took it out of her pocket and saw her boss' name on the screen and picked up. ''What's the news?'' She asked. ''The press conference has been moved to today. Within an hour we will be live.'' Jackson's voice sounded from the other side of the line. ''What? Alright then.. We will be heading back to the police station.'' She hung up her phone and walked downstairs to where Tess was. ''C'mon Tess, we need to go. The press conference starts within an hour.''

* * *

Damon had been watching every single move Catherine made, quickly scooting behind a tree as she walked over to the window. Holding his breath, he waited a few seconds before turning to peek around the tree as suddenly his phone vibrated in his pocket. ''Shoot.'' he muttered under his breath as he fumbled for the device. ''What?'' he snapped as he finally managed to get hold of it. ''Damon.'' His brows furrowed. ''Alaric?'' ''Yes, Alaric. Hey, listen. I got another job for you. There's a press conference today. They'll be going live in about an hour from now. I want you to make sure you get there and shoot that Jackson guy. You know who I mean, right? you don't have to kill him, just a bullet through the shoulder or something. I want everyone to know that the killer is still on the loose.'' Damon leaned back against the tree, curling his lower tier between his canines. ''Like a public stunt? I don't know, man. The FBI is getting closer and closer. There will be a lot of security an-'' Damon was cut off in the middle of his sentence as the door opened, two women emerging. ''Fine. I'll be there.'' He said quietly to Alaric before slipping his phone back into his pocket. This was going to be fun.

* * *

When Catherine and Tess arrived at the precinct, the place was already crawling with news reporters. She parked the car and turned the engine off before stepping out. She let her eyes roam around the place, quickly spotting Jackson in the doorway. She walked over to him and was about to say something when he snapped, ''You're late. What took you so long?'' Catherine frowned at his nervous behavior. They wouldn't go live until 4. The numbers on her phone indicated it was only 3:45. Jackson shook his head, raking is fingers through his blonde hair. ''You know what? Never mind. I don't want to know. Just go get ready.'' He said before stalking off. ''Someone's grumpy.'' Tess muttered with raised brows as she appeared behind Catherine. ''Isn't he always?'' Catherine uttered beneath her breath, causing Tess to laugh. ''Let's go get ready.''

Both Tess and Catherine went inside the building, quickly fixing their uniforms. Once again, Jackson appeared seemingly from out of nowhere. _There we go, _she thought.

* * *

Damon was observing the precinct from a safe distance, attempting to catch his breath. He'd had to run home in order to get his gun. He was somewhat irritated. Alaric could've called him a little earlier. This was not going to go right. He had this feeling. . .Everything was unplanned, rushed. But he had no other choice than to push through with it. He couldn't risk Alaric exposing to the world where he was hiding. Especially not now that it wasn't just one time he'd gotten his hands dirty. And Damon knew very well that even though he worked for Alaric, he wouldn't care when it came to his safety.

Damon tore himself away from the crowd. Luckily for him he was a very accurate shooter so a sniper riffle was unnecessary, which made him able to blend in easily. No one paid attention to him leaving. His eyes nervously flicked from the left to the right before he slipped into a small alley. From here he had a perfect view of the stage. He was able to see them, but they wouldn't be able to see him. All he had to do was shoot the guy and run. The alley made it easier for him to get to safety. All he'd have to do was run to the other side and he'd practically be standing in the backyard of the building he lived in. ''I can do this.'' He muttered to himself, feeling more confident with the second.

* * *

Catherine was distracted by the tall, dark haired stranger suddenly removing himself from the crowd. It didn't feel right. The press conference hadn't been started yet, so why was he leaving? She scooted closer to Tess and nudged her shoulder with hers, murmuring in a hushed tone. 'Tess, I gotta go.'' Her partner turned around to face her. ''Go? _Go where. _Jackson is going to kill you if you leave.'' Catherine sighed. She knew Tess was right. Jackson wasn't going to like this. ''I just have to check on something. You don't need me here anyway, I know just as much as you do. It'll only be a few minutes,'' she insisted and started to walk away from them and toward the still growing crowd. Just as she started to blend in with the people she heard Jackson shout, ''Chandler! Where do you think you-'' but she was already too far gone to hear the end of his sentence.

* * *

Damon watched as the press conference began, his hand lingering on the gun in his pocket. He allowed his eyes to close for a brief moment, trying to listen to the speech that was given. Though, he could only catch a few words and parts of phrases. It was too far away for him to hear it properly. He'd have to watch when he got home. Damon looked around to make sure no one was paying attention to him before pulling the gun from the depths of his jeans. He lifted his arm and aimed at the guy up front, brows knitting in concentration. He couldn't miss now. Alaric would kill him. He. . .Damon's eyes grew wide with surprise and he lowered his gun. The guy up on the stage, the guy who was trying to hunt him down was. . .Stefan?


End file.
